


kissing 101

by skyestiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Practice Kissing, a hint of jealous keith, attempted humor, lance can be Embarrassing, save these boys from themselves, some frottage, this is pretty self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestiel/pseuds/skyestiel
Summary: 'The room erupts into frustrated exclamations all at once. Keith is the only one to remain silent. Lance purses his lips and folds his arms across his chest. “Okay, hear me out! So, since it’s been a long time since I’ve actually kissed someone, I was thinking I may… need a little practice beforehand. To avoid uh. To avoid embarrassing myself.”'or: Lance wants to practice kissing before he kisses Allura, and things get complicated when Keith mistakenly volunteers himself for the job





	

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again, with another voltron fic! this idea hit me completely out of the blue? i started it the other night and everything just sort of progressed from there. i've always wanted to write this trope and decided a short oneshot would tide me over for now. i hope you enjoy the kisses? and check out [my other voltron fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7572187) if you haven't already! also all my twitter prompts [here](https://twitter.com/tobiologist/status/763086896394334216) and [here](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/tagged/twit-prompts). thanks for reading!!

Lance should’ve known from the beginning he was making a horrible, terrible, monumentally _awful_ mistake.

The entire team has gathered in the little commons room aboard the ship. Luckily, Zarkon and his army have backed off lately, and everyone has had more time to relax. For Lance, of course, more free time also means more time to think. Which, in this particular instance, may not be a good thing.

You see, Lance likes to plot.

If he notices something… off or something in dire need of changing or fixing, well, he can’t help but let it take over his mind. It happened many times back at the Garrison. Like when their tests were all crammed into the same week and, in the lull between hellish piles of schoolwork, Lance found himself wondering how he could steal a ship from the Garrison.

Okay, yes, it was obviously a ridiculous concept. The Garrison didn’t take kindly to students stealing- even _borrowing-_ their property, especially any that may allude to their “top secret” work. Lance knows how insane the idea was. But it didn’t stop him from pondering over it, day and night, for the following week until professors starting loading them down with mountains of essays and homework assignments.

The thought he gets today is a little like that. Actually, a lot like that.

“So…” he drawls, scanning the room. He lies stretched out on the couch beside Keith, who peers down in absolute wonder at his knife as he meticulously cleans the blade. Hunk and Pidge are engrossed in something on Pidge’s tablet, while Shiro casually flips through... a novel maybe? Some sort of book, Lance has no clue. _Typical_. They’re all too engrossed to even notice he’s spoken.

“So, guys,” Lance tries again. His toes are dangerously close to brushing Keith’s thigh. “I was thinking and-“

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Pidge interjects. Hunk, the traitor, snickers.

“Hey! Anyway… yeah, I was thinking. And um. Do you think Allura has ever kissed someone before?”

Shiro stiffens, fingers tightening around the edges of his book, and Hunk and Pidge both glance up from their work to shoot Lance matching looks of disappointment. Lance can’t see Keith’s face, but he can picture his expression all too easily when Keith opens his mouth to speak first. “What the hell?”

“What, you’ve never thought about it?” Lance snorts and bends his legs, purposely pressing his toes into the meaty side of Keith’s thigh. “She’s beautiful, but, like, how do Alteans view kissing and whatever? PDA? Is it taboo or… kind of the same as it is on Earth?”

“Lance,” Shiro sighs. He sets down his book and begins kneading his temples. “Really.”

“It’s a serious question!”

“And here’s a serious answer: why are you like this?” Hunk pipes up.

“That’s a question, not an answer.”

“But a legitimate question,” Pidge agrees. Hunk holds out his hand, and they bump fists. The betrayal is much too real. Lance and Hunk are having a _long_ chat about this the next time they’re alone.

“We really shouldn’t discuss this without the princess around.” Shiro fixes Lance with his scrutinizing stare. “It isn’t polite. It’d be much better if you just asked her yourself, Lance.” Lance is about to retort, but Shiro cuts him off. “ _Nicely_. With no innuendo.”

Lance groans. “Well, duh. I wouldn’t be a dick about it or anything. I really am just curious.”

“I’m sure,” Keith comments drily.

Flustered, Lance sits up, glaring daggers in Keith’s direction. “Dude,” he warns. Keith refuses to meet Lance’s gaze and focuses every ounce of his attention on the weapon held carefully in his hands.

“I feel like there’s more to this.” Pidge slowly pushes their glasses up the bridge of their nose and squints at Lance from across the room. “There always is.”

“Well,” Lance chirps, “you’re not wrong. There _is_ more.” Excitedly, he scoots closer to Keith and folds his legs under his body.

“Okay…?” Hunk and Shiro exchange concerned glances.

“If she hasn’t kissed anyone before,” Lance starts, sucking in a deep breath before rushing on with the rest of his plan. “I’d happily provide her with her first kiss.”

“Lance-“

“Buddy, really-“

“Wow, I just-“

The room erupts into frustrated exclamations all at once. Keith is the only one to remain silent. Lance purses his lips and folds his arms across his chest. “Okay, hear me out! So, since it’s been a long time since I’ve actually kissed someone, I was thinking I may… need a little practice beforehand. To avoid uh. To avoid embarrassing myself.”

Lance scrubs nervously at the back of his neck. His cheeks are on _fire_ , and the weight of everyone’s stares fixated solely on him is unbearable. He regrets everything. Really, this has to be one of his worst ideas, because the rest of Team Voltron is going to assume Lance is some kissing novice now, which maybe he _is,_ but no one needs to know that and-

“Right, well,” Pidge sighs. They stand, eyes flitting over to Hunk who immediately jumps to his feet, and turn toward the doorway in unison. “On that note, it’s probably time I catch some z’s.”

“Wh-“

“Yeah, same.” Hunk nods so jerkily that Lance worries the poor guy’s head may separate from his neck.

Shiro- fucking _Shiro_ \- stretches his arms over his head, lips parted in a hearty yawn, and joins Hunk and Pidge as they make their way toward the exit. “Me too.”

Lance can’t seem to find his voice. The words are right there on the tip of his tongue, angry protests lodged in his throat. His mouth opens and closes uselessly. Is the thought of kissing Lance, even for practice, really that terrible? So gross that it forces everyone to leave the room? The flush coloring Lance’s cheeks turns indignant, embarrassment quickly giving way to disappointment and anger.

“Seriously?” Flinching, Lance sinks in on himself at the pathetic whine that leaves his lips.

“We’ll think about it,” Hunk reassures Lance, but the lilt in his tone says it all: none of them plan on considering it. And, even though it’s his best friend, Hunk, talking, Lance still feels the sharp sting of rejection.

After the three leave, everything goes silent for a few tense moments. Lance doesn’t move an inch. Fingers pressing into the tops of his thighs, he stares down at the floor as if it, rather than his fellow teammates, has wronged him.

 _Not good enough. Ugly. Worthless._ The words tumble around inside Lance’s head. He knows the other paladins would never say anything so heartless and cold to him, and yet he can’t shake thoughts of them repeating each scathing remark, voices dripping with contempt and venom. It feels real, too real, and it _hurts_.

(It isn’t until the next day Lance learns the real reason everyone fled the room.)

“You’re ridiculous.”

Lance jerks, roughly tugged away from his thoughts by the timbre of Keith’s voice. Tentatively, he glances over. A mirthless laugh spills from his mouth. “Obviously. You don’t need to tell me twice, okay, samurai?”

Keith worries at his bottom lip, and Lance is engrossed. They look… nice. Like the kind of lips that would be nice to press into and part and _take-_  

 _Wow, wow, hold on now,_ Lance thinks with a helpless chuckle. _If you’re going to practice kissing with anyone, it isn’t going to be this asshole. You know, your rival? No way._

“I can’t believe you’re desperate enough to ask one of us to kiss you,” Keith carries on, shaking his head. “Just so you can prepare for Allura. Even though that ship has already sailed. Well, crashed and burned, actually.”

“What?! I totally still have a chance with Allura!”

“I’m sure she would say differently.”

Lance thinks he may be going nuts because Keith… Keith is smiling. An actual, genuine smile. Lips quirked in a sympathetic little smirk, the likes of which Lance has only seen once before in his short life. He wonders what that same smirk would feel like against his mouth, what it would taste like, how it would feel against the bare column of his neck.

Which, by the way, are normal thoughts to have about your rival.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” Lance coos. He leans into Keith, nudging him playfully with his elbow. This is what he does best- getting a rise out of the local hothead. “It’s okay, Keith, no one can resist my charms. Piloting isn’t the only reason they called me the Tailor.” He wiggles his eyebrows for added measure.

Keith visibly tenses, and Lance watches in fascination as he sheathes his knife. Not once does he acknowledge Lance’s teasing bedroom eyes or taunting grin.

“That makes no sense-“ Keith mumbles, and Lance’s mouth settles into a frown- “but I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, I had a feeling you’d- wait. Huh?”

“I _said_ ,” Keith reiterates and turns, facing Lance. He jabs a finger into Lance’s chest. “That I guess I don’t mind practicing with you.”

_Oh._

No. No, there’s no way Lance heard that right. There must be some sort of mistake because there’s no way in _hell_ Keith Kogane is offering to make out with _him_.

“Really?” Lance squawks. He’d love to feel embarrassed, but his brain is too clouded with thoughts of kissing someone, even Keith, to give a damn about his own pride. “Like- _really?_ ”

“If you make me repeat myself, Lance, I swear to fucking-“

“Yes!” Lance blurts. “I mean, yeah. Sure. I guess that’d be cool.”

 _Smooth as peanut butter_. _That’s the Lance McClain way._

Keith rolls his eyes and shifts in place, mirroring Lance’s position on the couch. Lance is about to snicker and chastise Keith but, before he can even think of saying a word, he really takes the time to look at Keith. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm against his thighs, eyes hidden behind the cover of dark bangs. His eyes flit nervously from Lance back down to his lap. He continues to worry at his bottom lip, and Lance has to stifle every urge to bite that same lip and _tug_.

“So have you… ever done this before?” Lance prompts. He swallows down the sudden lump in his throat.

“No.” Keith blinks. “Have you?”

Lance has two options: lie out of his ass to uphold his image or tell Keith the truth. And, considering the honest and uncharacteristically open look on Keith’s face, Lance would feel like an absolute shitlord for not telling the truth.

“Honestly? No.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

Heat continues to simmer in Lance’s belly, dusting his cheeks. He just admitted to never having kissed anyone before, and Keith didn’t even bat an eye. He didn’t berate or make fun of Lance. He didn’t flinch away and accuse him of being a liar. Instead, he seemed to inch a bit closer, possibly reassured by the notion of this being both of their first times.

“How do we do this?” Lance laughs nervously. He doesn’t know where to set his hands and decides to rest them atop Keith’s. The gloved knuckles flinch at the contact but, thankfully, don’t pull away.

“Lean over and like- just do it, right? Kiss?”

“Nah, it’s more romantic than that,” Lance admonishes Keith. This may be his first kiss, but Lance has watched enough television and read enough of his mother’s romance novels to know how this whole thing goes. “They usually-“ Lance reaches a timid hand toward Keith’s face and slides his fingers over the smooth line of his jaw. He doesn’t miss the resulting shudder at his touch- “And then they just…”

Lance brushes his thumb over Keith’s ear and delights in the tiny, pleased noise he earns in return. He continues until his hand rests at the nape of Keith’s neck, curling around and pulling Keith a bit closer. Their faces are barely an inch apart now, and Lance can feel their mingled breathing tickling his skin. Keith stares resolutely at his lips, and Lance finds himself doing the same.

“Then what?” Keith’s question is barely more than a breathy whisper.

“Oh, well, then you angle your head just so, and…” Lance musters every ounce of courage in his body and moves until their lips brush. It’s only for an instant, but Lance revels in the brief softness of Keith’s lips before pulling back.

Keith, however, stays where he is. His eyes are closed, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and his lips remain pursed in the most adorable kissy face Lance has ever seen. On anyone else, it would look silly. But not Keith.

When Lance does nothing- because, hell, he never thought he’d make it this far- Keith eventually opens his eyes. And, boy, if he doesn’t look dejected.

“Is that… all?”

“Um!” Lance may be panicking. Not a lot, of course, because he's _Lance_ but enough to stall his words. “I mean? Yes?”

“I don’t get what the big fuss is about then,” Keith huffs. He goes to lean back, but the hand at his neck doesn’t get the memo. It holds Keith solidly in place. “What?”

“Was it… bad?”

Keith’s eyes widen and- yep. Lance knew it. Sure, he’s never kissed anyone, but he never thought he’d be _bad_ at it. As a matter of fact, he used to think he’d grow up to be the best kisser in the universe. Mostly because he was a kid with crazy fantastical dreams and, progressing into high school, a teenager with raging hormones.

“That’s cool.” Lance laughs and, dammit, it wasn’t supposed to come out sounding so bitter. His arm drops back to his side, instantly missing the soft texture of Keith’s hair. “I figured it would be shitty. But, you know, you live, you learn, right?”

He’s about to climb off the couch and return to his room where he can spend the rest of the night crying himself to sleep in peace, thank you very much, but Keith has other plans. The previously motionless hands lying between them move to Lance’s head, one at either side. Palms splayed across Lance’s cheeks, Keith holds Lance there as if his life depends on it.

“You really think that’ll be enough to impress Allura?” Keith asks, and wow. It’s very likely Lance has lost his mind and is imagining this entire scenario. But, if not, the tone in Keith’s voice is unmistakable. He’s instigating Lance because that, friends, is how they function.

“No?” The word comes out garbled. His squished cheeks are making talking increasingly difficult. “I guess not.”

“Show me,” Keith demands, low and dangerous, words trickling over Lance’s skin like fire.

And, holy shit, if that isn’t hot.

“Okay.” Lance wastes no time in reclaiming Keith’s lips. With the challenge hanging over them, Lance throws caution to the wind. Their noses bump clumsily, teeth clanking, but neither try to stop what they’ve started. It’s messy with a hint of hesitance Lance never expected from Keith.

As they settle into a more comfortable rhythm, Keith gently glides his hands down Lance’s neck and pauses at his shoulders, easing him back until he’s leaning against the arm of the couch. They find the perfect angle for each of their heads, and their lips slot pleasantly together. Rushed movements gradually slow to something deeper, careful. Each press is hungry but less desperate. This window in time feels fragile to Lance, as if one wrong move could ruin everything.

“Slow… down there… hotshot,” Lance manages, their lips separating with a little wet ‘pop.’ “You’re going to ruin these amazing lips before I even get to Allura.”

 _Wait_. Something about the insult feels off to Lance. After mentioning her, Lance tries to imagine doing this same thing with Allura. He pictures longer hair gliding through his fingers, imagines the sweet taste of lips and floral scent of perfume. But everything about the mental image feels wrong to him and- oh no.

Every time he tries to replace Keith with Allura, his mind stubbornly drags him back to reality. He hates how much he enjoys the texture of that stupid mullet between his fingers, the soft pressure of chapped lips against his own, the smell of shaving cream and something unmistakably Keith. It’s a bit overwhelming- _very_ overwhelming.

To his surprise, Keith pauses and is the one to pull away this time. He peers back at Lance through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, and his lips are swollen, a delicious red tint coloring them. Lance stifles an aggravated moan. “What?” Lance prompts.

“We should probably stop,” Keith mutters. His words are clipped, sharp around the edges.

“Why?” Lance doesn’t even care how whiny he sounds right now. He and Keith are having a moment- a _bonding_ moment- and Keith wants to end it? Right when things were starting to get interesting?

“I’m glad you’re having a good time or whatever, but I’m not going any further than this as just a fucking substitute,” Keith grumbles. Lance blanches because he totally must have said the last part of his internal monologue out loud. “That should be enough for- for Allura.”

Lance notices the way Keith trips over his words. _Maybe he wants to quit because he’s nervous?_ “I mean, I get it if you’re nervous, dude, but so am I.” Lance smirks. “You told me to show you how I’m going to impress-”

“Yeah, that’s- I can’t, Lance.”

“Because you’re jealous I get to kiss Allura…?”

“I’m done,” Keith says by way of an answer.

Before Lance can snag his wrist or arm or anything that'll make him stay, Keith untangles their bodies and climbs to his feet. “Keith-”

“I hope that helped,” he interjects, voice laced with obvious disdain.

Without ever turning back, not even once, Keith storms out of the room. Lance is left staring at his retreating form. Subconsciously, his fingers hover over his lips, entranced by the phantom tingle left behind in the wake of their kisses.

_What the hell?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You know why we left yesterday… right?” Hunk says, hesitant, as he and Lance clean the healing pods. “When you asked someone to make out with you?”

“For practice, you mean,” Lance corrects.

“Right. For practice.” Hunk steps away from his pod and slings his rag over his shoulder. “But, really, do you know why?”

“Because you can't handle my mad skills?”

“Um, no,” Hunk deadpans.

“Rude…”

“Anyway, the reason we bolted is because- dude, Keith, he-”

Lance stopped cleaning a long time ago and expectantly meets Hunk’s stare. He isn't sure where this is going and, honestly, doesn't know how to feel about it. He can think of a thousand reasons why Keith wouldn’t want to kiss him. Insecurity has plagued Lance for ages. Thankfully, he’s perfected the art of laughing and smiling as if nothing is wrong so no one sees through the act. Lance is unattractive and obnoxious and not worth the trouble. That’s what most people seemed to think; why would Keith think any differently?

“We knew he'd probably volunteer himself,” Hunk finishes.

 _Probably volunteer himself, volunteer_ himself, _Keith volunteering to kiss Lance._

The sentence echoes inside Lance's skull like in the movies. Like one of the older ones from before his parents’ time, repeated over and over again for dramatic effect.

“Huh?” he, an intellectual, responds.

“Yeah, he told us…” Hunk frowns, clearly thinking hard about his next words. “He told us he was wanting to get his first kiss out of the way soon. To, you know. Beat you.”

Lance puffs out his chest. “Oh, it is _on_.”

He runs out of the room, just missing Hunk shake his head and scoff, “Oblivious.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They practice again.

Well, if it can even be called that. Lance appears at Keith's door after his usual visit to the training room and barges in before Keith can even kick him out.

“Lance?” For once, Keith looks scared. That is until Lance keeps coming, undeterred by Keith’s confusion, and fear quickly becomes something else, something darker and more excited. “What are you doing?”

Anxious, Lance pushes Keith against the nearest wall and uses the element of surprise to his advantage. He eagerly swallows Keith's shocked gasp and licks into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the sensitive roof of the other boy's mouth. Keith _keens_ , practically melting into the wall behind him.

“Yeah,” Keith sighs, and Lance isn’t sure whether he means for it to slip out but it _does things_ to Lance. “Yeah, okay.”

Lance moves until every possible inch of them is touching. Chests pressed together, he uses his full body weight to hold Keith in place, slipping his knee between Keith's parted thighs. He pushes and, if he isn’t mistaken, Keith pushes back, sinking down, down. It’s Lance’s turn to gasp as Keith moves, grinding against the solid pressure of Lance’s leg. _Oh fuck_.

Desperate, Keith grapples at the back of Lance’s shirt. Hands are everywhere, pulling, scratching, _feeling_ , and Lance can’t get enough of it. Each slide of their tongues, each blissed out sigh and startled grunt of pleasure, sends heat straight to Lance's groin. It's quick and dirty and exactly what Lance needs.

Which- oh _shit_ \- is his definitive sign to pull away.

“I think I’m getting better,” he breathes against Keith's mouth. His senses are gradually returning to normal and, before he can make a fool of himself, Lance darts from the room.

Things are getting a little… weird.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You really just asked me that.” Pidge slowly shuts their laptop. “You seriously just- wow.”

“I'm being serious, okay, is it super weird or not?” Lance stands at the entranceway to the room, watching as Pidge sets aside their work. They spend countless hours in here updating software and expanding on features for their latest robot creation.

“Okay but the two of us are _not_ having this conversation. If you want to know so badly, ask Keith.”

“What? How?” Lance cries, lifting his arms into the air. “Hey, Keith, I know we're just friends- sort of?- but you're fun to kiss and sometimes you even make me har-”

“Nope!” Pidge shoves their fingers in their ears. “Not listening to this!”

“But if-”

“La, la, la, I'm not listening,” Pidge yells, shaking their head. “Go talk to him, la, la, la!”

“What about Shiro?”

“Please never talk about this with Shiro! He doesn't want to hear about your raging hormones- he's an adult.”

“Maybe he-”

“If you don't leave this room right now and go talk to Keith, I'll eviscerate you!”

Lance knows a threat when he hears one. If Pidge is pulling out words like “eviscerate,” he'd be better to shut up and do what they say.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Inevitably, they practice _again_.

This time, Keith is the one to storm into Lance's room. From the set of his shoulders and visible fire in his eyes, Keith is pissed. And Lance definitely shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does.

“That sad excuse for a kiss,” he hisses, stomping over to where Lance sits on the edge of his bed. “You're calling _that_ practice?”

“Well… yeah.”

Keith growls, actually fucking _growls,_ and climbs onto Lance's bed. “Keith, buddy, we can talk about this!”

Instead of responding, Keith crawls closer, and, terrified, Lance scoots away. Keith continues until he has Lance crowded against the headboard of his bed.

But, when he speaks, it's the last thing Lance expects to hear. “This is the last time.”

 _What?_ Lance thinks back to his conversations with Hunk and Pidge, to the first time he and Keith “practiced” together. A thought strikes him. “Keith, are you actually jealous of Allura?”

“God, you are such an _idiot_ sometimes,” Keith snaps, but the reprimand doesn’t carry much heat. It almost sounds fond, which is incredibly weird coming from Keith, of all people.

Or… is it?

Lance’s brain goes into panic mode. Little pieces of the puzzle start coming together, tiny fragments he’s picked up over the last several months and ignored because he never saw them as remotely important. A quick smile here and there, a lingering touch or stare, an insult spoken with far too much softness to be considered anything other than affectionate.

“Holy shit.” Lance exhales a shaky laugh. “Holy _shit_.”

“What? You know it’s true,” Keith chides. He sits back on his heels and regards Lance. His hands lie restless in his lap. That’s always been a nervous habit of his.

“No, no, I mean- I get it now.” Lance motions at Keith. “The whole jealousy thing? It was never about Allura… was it?”

A flicker of indecision crosses Keith’s eyes, almost fast enough that Lance misses it. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Determined, Lance lifts himself into a sitting position, easing closer to Keith. He cautiously rests his hands on Keith’s waist. His fingers accidentally brush the bare stretch of skin exposed by his shirt, and Lance notes the muscles twitching faintly beneath his touch. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“But I did.”

“Nope, you sure didn't.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Listen, I just need to make sure I'm not going crazy and blowing this out of proportion.”

“I don't get jealous,” Keith explains. But he avoids eye contact, which is enough of an answer for Lance.

“Ugh!” Lance drops forward, face pressed into Keith's neck. “And you call _me_ ridiculous.”

The silence stretches between them. Lance struggles to steady his breathing and hopes Keith can't feel the thunderous beating of his heart inside his chest. Tension weighs down on them, but Lance savors the body heat, the comfort of allowing his arms to wrap more securely around Keith, nails dragging across the cotton fabric of his wrinkly shirt.

“I… I guess I do sometimes,” Keith eventually mutters.

“You do what?”

Keith lets out a long-suffering sigh, ruffling Lance's hair. “I do get jealous sometimes. When you, well. Flirt with everyone.”

A lazy, satisfied grin curls Lance's lips. He hums contentedly. “I can't believe I never noticed.”

“I can.”

“Hey!”

“We should go back to kiss- practicing. Practice kissing.” Keith nervously clears his throat. “Especially since this is our last time.”

Lance isn't used to this side of Keith, but he's starting to like it more and more with every passing second. He’s grown accustomed to the temperamental Red Paladin, the prodigious pilot and stubborn rebel. Carefully, Lance eases back in order to better gauge Keith's reaction.

“You like me,” Lance suggests but it comes out as more of a statement of fact. Keith flushes as red as a cherry tomato. “Right?”

“I never said that,” Keith retorts weakly.

“You didn't have to.” Lance can't help but laugh. An unanticipated swell of relief washes over him. He's been so worried about creeping Keith out, but this- Keith actually liking him- changes everything.

“Don't make fun of me.” Keith bristles and turns like he wants to leave. Which Lance can't have.

“I would never.”

“Bullshit?”

“Okay, no, I mean about-” he gestures between the two of them- “about this.”

Keith’s brows furrow, skeptical. “This?”

“I mean, I just figured out recently myself, but… I think I might? Like you, too?”

Hope burns in Keith's stare. “What?”

Lance loses his confidence and buries his face in Keith's neck once again. He inhales the familiar and comforting smell of Keith. “Please don't make me repeat it, buddy. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is.”

“Oh,” Keith says. Shaky fingers suddenly settle themselves between Lance's shoulder blades. “You're not joking.”

“Like I said, not the sort of thing I'd joke about. I'm not that much of an ass.”

A long pauses follows Lance's comment. For a second, he thinks he might’ve gone too far, might’ve misinterpreted this situation with Keith completely. Finally, Keith responds. “We should go back to kissing then.”

“Practicing? For all the people who will be graced with our amazing kissing prowess,” Lance purrs, dragging his lips purposely along the column of Keith's throat.

“Wait-”

“Keith, dude, I'm just kidding.”

And, just like that, they're back to “practicing.” An hour or so later, Lance decides their session is over. To his delight, Keith definitely seems to have improved.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated!! please come cry with me about voltron over on tumblr or twitter @tobiologist


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